The Way to Greatness
by Schlangenkind
Summary: "Some angels are destined to fall." An abused and betrayed Boy-Who-Lived? Check. New friendships with the not-so-dark Slytherins? Check. An anything but pure Light Side? Check. A gay hero, a smart Weasley and a cool mudblood with a devious scheme to deceive and overthrow the entire wizarding world? Che- Wait, WHAT?
1. The Game Plan

**AN: **There is a prequel to this story on my account, called 'Better be Gryffindor'. It's not necessary to read it to understand 'The Way to Greatness' but if you have nothing better to do, you're welcome to give it a try.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

**Warning:** The Gryffindors aren't the same as in the books. They have grown up under different circumstances that will be explained thorough the story or can be found (partly) in 'Better be Gryffindor'. The story is also based on canon up until the sixth book, with a few changes. There will be hetero- and homosexual pairings in this story. Finally this story will be Harry centric.

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><p><strong>The Way to Greatness<strong>

_by Schlangenkind_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 The Game Plan<strong>

_or The one where facts are stated, kings are replaced but not and true genius comes in the form of insanity_

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><p><em>2nd of July, 1997, Room of Requirement, Hogwarts, Scotland<em>

The Room of Requirement was quiet. It wasn't the breathless silence you would expect shortly before a fight nor was it heavy and oppressing like an approaching storm. It was the silence of an early summer morning, when the clouds finally dissolved and the light of a new day illuminated the world. Everything was fresh, clean and waiting patiently for the new beginning that everybody expected after all the thunder and lightning. As this is the Room of Requirement we are talking about, it was exactly the sort of quietness the seven students inside yearned for nearly all their admittedly rather short life. Which was probably one of the reasons why they loved being there so much. Without the pressure of a death threat looming over their heads. Miles away from the judging eyes of the student body or even worse the professors. This broken piece of untouched freedom they shared was precious to each of them for all the same and different reasons. But in the end none of that mattered.

It was a young male with dark black hair who finally broke the silence. His voice was low and raw as though he had screamed so much that he had permanently damaged his vocal records. The scars he wore only added credibility to these speculations but most people were too mesmerized by the lightning shaped scar on his forehead to pay much attention to the rest of his body. Still, his most noticeable features were the clear green eyes. They were pure and wide open, constantly filled with emotions. Yet there was a darkness inside of them. These weren't the eyes of a child, they had seen too much for that, but they weren't the eyes of an adult either. There was still a certain naïvety in them that had nothing to do with blood or death but simply with experience and age. Two things the boy still severely lacked.

As soon as the boy straightened his back the others tensed. They were his companions and they knew him very well. Peaceful times were over. They had work to do. It didn't matter that some of them wanted to stay in that dream-like illusion where no reality like the one they lived even existed. But in the end their wants didn't matter. Because the green-eyed boy was their leader and they would always follow him. That's what they'd sworn a long time ago. And that's what they did.

"Next year won't be easy."

There were times where he would have been unable to finish even just his first sentence without some sarcastic comment cutting him off. But not here, not now. Here they were far away from the watching children. Here they were free to act like they really were. It was a treasured freedom, mostly because it rarely happened. Right now the pressure of others expectations were no more than a distant memory. And Merlin did it feel good.

"Here are the facts: Dumbledore is dead. The order protects aka controls Hogwarts. The ministry is hopelessly corrupt. The attention and hope of the public rests on the Boy-Who-Lived." The boy spoke softly and strangely detached like he couldn't care any less. Like these facts didn't dictate his whole life.

"It's pathetic." A girl with bushy brown hair and friendly eyes sneered. The expression on her face was foreign yet surprisingly fitting. But within mere seconds her features melted into the thoughtful look she was well-known for. Expect for the calculating glint in her eyes maybe. But if you weren't paying close attention you could almost overlook it. "Alright" she finally continued. "What we need is drama, drama and then lots of drama. It's what everyone expects. Besides it's war. Now with Dumbledore's death tension's running high and we need to act accordingly."

"Besides we'll want one of us on each side once the war truly starts" another male - this one with flaming red hair and lots of freckles - agreed calmly. His movements were awkward like his body had grown too fast for his mind to keep up with but his lips formed a determined line and his eyes were focused. "A fall-out between the Golden Trio is overdue anyway and it would give us the necessary room to end up on different sides."

Another boy with dark skin and narrowed eyes leant forward, leaning his head onto his left hand. "You want to break the Golden Trio apart?" His tone wasn't surprised, merely contemplative. "I'm not sure whether that's a good idea. I hate to say this but the three of you together make for a pretty strong image. People will lose faith fast if not even the Boy-Who-Lived's perceived best friends stand by his side."

"What do you suggest then?" the scarred boy asked curiously. "We could play the leaders of Gryffindor again, or maybe even the outcasts, alone and absorbed in their training. But none of these positions will truly benefit us in the long run."

"Well, I'm not sure about the Golden Trio" the dark-skinned one admitted. "But I believe that both Seamus and Ginny are in a better and more believable position to approach the Dark one or at least the people on his side."

The girl with fiery hair sitting on his lap turned her head slightly, blinking at the boy like she had never seen something like him before. "How come Seamus and Ginny are better suited for that part of the play?" She asked sweetly but they all knew better than to keep her waiting.

"Seamus as always been at odds with the Boy-Who-Lived" the dark-skinned one replied with a wry grin in the direction of his sandy colored friend. "Especially during fifth year of course, but even before they were never close. He has no reason to follow him but is in a very good position for a spy because he's chummy with most of the Boy-Who-Lived's supporters and friends. And Ginny is one out of seven children, they can't all turn out light and cheery. Besides the Chamber Chaos could have had some side effects nobody ever noticed. And her obsession with the Boy-Who-Lived could easily turn into burning hate."

A moment of silence followed as the other attendants considered what had been said. Finally, the scarred one sighed. "It's a believable story and much more likely than a broken Trio. A temporarily fall-out wouldn't be surprising but people would have expected the Golden Trio to be united again in the end. This might be the better way to get some of ours into every possible corner."

"So we agree that Seamus and Ginny work on the Slytherins" the bushy haired girl concluded. "And Dean will probably stay under the radar because he isn't one of the prominently known mudbloods. So I think he would have the easiest time to continue our research because he won't be watched like we'll be."

The dark-skinned one smirked. "Not to forget that there are spies to take care of and information to collect."

"Listen guys, it's nice to know what three of us will be doing next year but we still haven't solved the trouble with the Golden Trio" the scarred one brought them back on track. He did that often.

"I'm not even sure if they should get back to Hogwarts" a boy with light brown hair and callous hands spoke softly. His words though immediately secured him the attention of the whole room. He blushed but continued nonetheless. "Think about it. Dumbledore has been dead for merely two days but things are already falling apart. I'm not sure when the Ministry's going to fall but we all know it will. Right now, the Order may have a decent hold of Hogwarts but we can't count on that in the coming school year. Hogwarts is a high-profile target anyways but with the Golden Trio there it's going to be a bloody disaster. And I mean that literally."

The boy with the flaming hair leaned his head back, a troubled look on his face. "You're right. The Golden Trio has to disappear, only seen occasionally to give the people hope. Which isn't too bad considering we can keep a better eye on things when we aren't stuck at that school. But inside Hogwarts Gryffindor will be the epitome of hope. It is the house where they'll expect a rebellion so we should prove them right. Besides with the Boy-Who-Lived gone they need a new leader or our structure will crumble and leave the house weak and incapable of defending itself."

"That's not a problem. Neville is the perfect figurehead for the resistance. Not only do his parents give him the motivation to stand against the Dark but he's also the second prophecy child. Nobody else comes as close to replacing the Boy-Who-Lived as he does."

They all nodded along with the bushy haired girl's words. It made sense. It was true. But it also wasn't that easy, the boy with the sandy hair realized suddenly.

"Everything you said is true but while Neville is the best _replacement_ we have, he still isn't the King. I realize how dangerous Hogwarts is most likely going to be for the Boy-Who-Lived but I can't imagine the Gryffindor house without him. Neville will only be seen as second best and I fear that it won't be enough. Not during a war. We need him at Hogwarts. Besides how else are we supposed to use the Chamber? Not to forget that many of our supporters only serve him, not us as a whole. We'll lose those people during times where we can't afford it."

The bushy haired girl closed her eyes, defeated. "This is a migraine waiting to happen" she groaned. "Why do we have to play this game again?"

She received no answer.

Suddenly the glazed eyes of the red-haired girl lit up. "I have an idea." The grin on her lips was terrifying. "A way for the Boy-Who-Lived to be exactly where he needs to be without actually being there. Something _nobody_ would _ever_ expect."

The insane gleam in her eyes told the others all they needed to know. _They wouldn't know what hit them_.

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><p>This was the first chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. The following chapters will be written in a slightly different style because this really was just the outline of their "game plan" but I won't tell you anything else for now *evil smirk*<p>

Please leave me a review and tell me what you think!

Love, Schlange


	2. Dealing out the Cards

**AN: **Thank you to all those who follow, favorite and/or review this story! I don't think I'd come far without you! Regarding the chapter: this is a short introduction to some of the main characters/their way of thinking. Also they are still in the planning stage the real story will start with the next chapter. Also not all of the Team will be mentioned in equal parts! This story focuses on Harry, even though this chapter doesn't reflect it!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter nor the world he lives in.

**Warning:** No special warnings for this chapter

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><p><strong>The Way to Greatness<strong>

_by Schlangenkind_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 Dealing out the Cards<strong>

_or The one where plans are made, miscalculations are discovered, potions are taken and a fellowship breaks apart. There's no ring involved though._

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><p><em>8th of July, 1997, Privet Drive Number Four, Surrey<em>

Harry pinched the brick of his nose in a rare sign of resignation. This was a stupid idea. A horrible, horribly stupid idea. And coming from Harry Potter, the brain behind an operation that involved Amortentia, Goyle, Treackle Tart, an old sock and jelly beans, that was _really_ saying something.

"By Merlin, will you finally get over your unnecessary dramatics" an impatient voice snapped through the mirror in his left hand that had been blank mere seconds ago. Now sharp blue eyes glared at him with so much fever the boy actually flinched. "One would think you're the only one suffering from this. Remember I too am a victim!"

Well, that was certainly true, Harry conceded. But it had been her idea, so she really had no right to sulk now that The Plan, also called T.P.T.S.H.P.I.H.U. - The Plan To Smuggle Harry Potter Into Hogwarts Undetected - was about to become reality.

It was absolutely mental, just like the lovely girl who came up with the idea.

Harry eyed the vial in his right hand with no small amount of suspicion. It was created by a Weasley after all. And the sickly smell did nothing to reassure him either.

"Honestly, Harry! Where's your marauder spirit?" Ginny snapped when he still made no move to take the potion. "Think about it as a prank. A prank neither the Order nor the Death Munchers would ever expect! Do you know how jealous the twins are going to be? You're going to pull one over the entire wizarding world, damn it!"

"Yeah, only because it's so crazy nobody would do it of his free will!" He grumbled back at his long time friend, though his words lacked any heat.

He was only drawing the inevitable out a bit longer anyway. Harry had already agreed to this stupid plan and he couldn't back out now, not when the others depended on his success. Still, there must have been an easier solution. Of course they were Gryffindors and as Ron liked to remind them all regularly, _Gryffindors didn't do easy_. But it were moments like these where Harry swore on his life and magic that one day he would get that trice damned hat back for putting him into the house of the lions. One day.

With that thought Harry blanked his face of any emotion and addressed the red-haired girl with a cool voice that told her he meant business. "Remember to give us an update every three days. Your deadline is December the first. And what ever you do, don't be seen."

She nodded swiftly, her eyes narrowing determined.

"Take care of yourself, Chaser" he smirked slightly, reveling in the annoyed twitch of her left eyebrow. She didn't berate him though, not now that their friendly chat was clearly over. She knew better than that. Instead she dipped her chin slightly, acknowledging the order for the silent promise it was.

"Long live the King" she spoke softly.

The mirror went blank. Harry lifted his head to the sky in a silent prayer, though for what he didn't know, and drowned the potion without further hesitation.

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><p><em>10th of July, 1997, The Burrow, England<em>

Ron Weasley stared at the ghoul with what should have been cautious satisfaction but in reality was much closer to disturbed fascination. That _thing_ had with just a touch of magic become a mirror image of himself. If only they had discovered this particular branch earlier, he would have never had to suffer Potions with Snape again! It wasn't like a lifeless golem could do much more damage than an alive and well Ronald Weasley after all, he thought with a wry grin.

It had actually been Dean's idea, surprisingly enough. They had all known that Ron would be searched for prominently by the Death Eaters as he, next to Hermione, was Harry Potter's best known mate. Which proved to be a dangerous position, now that the wizarding world had found itself on the brick of another civil war. "They won't search for you if they know where you are" Dean had said. It was in all honesty a variation of the mantra Harry to this day loved to use when they planned one of their precious games. _There is no secret better kept than the secret everybody guesses._

He had never told them where he had gotten that phrase from but then Harry had always preferred to keep his cards close to his chest. And really it didn't matter where saying was from, they all lived by it anyways.

Murmuring another incarnation ensured that the ghoul spotted all the necessary signs for spattergroit. It wouldn't do to be too closely examined by a curious ministry employer after all. One could never be too careful. He hadn't told his family of his plans for the exact same reason. His parents were under the impression that he would help Harry on some sort of quest Dumbledore had left for them which allowed him to be very vague. His brothers had enough worries of their own without him adding to their troubles and Ginny … Well, Ginny had her own mission to accomplish. Ron shuddered just a little. He loved his only sister, he really did, but he preferred not to think too much about what exactly her assignment would entail. There were some details he could live without ever knowing, thank you very much.

With the last of his preparations finally completed Ron slipped his shrunken trunk into one of his pockets and closed the door quietly. This alibi would hopefully give him a few weeks if not months before anyone of importance would catch on. More than enough time for any tracks he might leave behind to be lost forever.

Standing outside the wards Ron allowed himself one last glance at his childhood home before he apparated away, his features set into a determined scowl.

He had a job to do.

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><p><em>13th of July, 1997, The Daily Prophet's Headquarters, London<em>

The plan was simple. Get in, scout Skeeter's office, get out and _don't_ be seen. Simple. Really, it was probably one of the most straightforward plans they had ever thought of. Or so Harry said. Which was why he should have expected it to be _anything_ but easy.

'_I do work for Harry after all_', Neville thought sourly. '_And as Volly-Molly-Dolly should have realized by now, _nothing_ is ever simple where Harry Potter is concerned._'

Nevertheless working for Harry also generally meant an absurd amount of luck on their side, most likely to make up for all the shit Fate liked to throw at them. Neville had no idea how Harry had pissed the Powers Above off to deserve everything they put him through but it must have been pretty spectacular. Harry never did things half-way.

On second thought, Harry's unbelievable luck might have nothing to do with his target's low security, Neville contemplated. It could just be the typical arrogance and sadly very common idiocy of wizardkind. There really was no reasonable explanation why after the Ministry had acknowledged Voldemort's return and after Dumbledore had been murdered at Hogwarts of all places the only spell needed to gain access to the Daily Prophet's headquarters was 'Alohomora'. Especially considering that during war times no matter what the Prophet published, one side would definitely become very _annoyed_ with their point of view. Of course, only Voldemort was known for slaughtering his enemies, so they quite possible thought themselves safe.

Neville chuckled without sound. The simple-mindedness of his fellow wizards and witches never ceased to amuse him. Thankfully he also wasn't above using their stupidity against them, no matter that an old hat declared him a Gryffindor almost seven years ago.

His feet silenced and a simple Disillusion charm woven into the fabric of his robe, Neville calmly stepped into the main office. It was empty, which was hardly shocking as it was three o'clock in the morning. Not even the editor was that dedicated to the newspaper. A fact that Neville was counting on. Because while he would definitely enjoy his discussion with the lovely Miss Skeeter, it wouldn't do to come unprepared. Besides if they knew what she was working on right know they could predict their next actions far better. An unsupervised animagus always came back to bite one in the ass later on otherwise.

Again it had been disturbingly easy to find Skeeter's office and her current work notes. In fact it were those notes, where the easy part ended. It crashed and burned rather violently.

With a long-suffering sign Neville did the one thing he had hoped to never do again. He activated his mirror with a simple "Seeker, Keeper, King." At once the surface split into three equally large parts. Three faces appeared soon after, none of them looking pleased to see him. Then again it _was_ in the middle of the night so he really couldn't blame them.

"Nev?" Ron groaned, his eyes only half-way open. Harry didn't even manage to form anything remotely resembling actual words. Seeing the expression on the other boy's face, Neville decided that it was probably a good thing.

"It's necessary." Not urgent. Not important. Not significant. _Necessary_.

The others tensed, just the slightest bit. It was enough to assure Neville that he had their full attention.

"I've decided to visit an old friend tonight, one whose silence really bugged me" he began softly. Their widening eyes told him they understood. Of course they did. It had been Dean and Harry's fascination with muggle spy movies that had given them the inspiration for half their missions and nearly all their code words. It had been fun too. Especially those nights when they tip-toed around Snape, taking bets on who could follow the unbearable teacher the longest without being noticed. Once they got bored with the playing ninja part they started to unexpectedly jump him from the shadows, crying 'You shall not pass!' as loud as they could. There detentions that year were legendary. '_Ah, good times_.'

"As it turned out, they have been quite busy lately." And without further explanation he showed them the title page of the freshly printed book he had found in the despicable journalist's office.

The vividly colored title was impossible to miss. _The life and lies of Albus Dumbledore_

Hermione cursed. Ron groaned. Neville and Harry shared a despairing smile.

It was going to be a long night.

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><p><em>24th of July, 1997, Irland<em>

Seamus was not enjoying himself.

The last time he had spoken - really spoken - with his friends had been shortly after Dumbledore's burial. They had all been tense back then. Not exactly because of the headmaster's fall, Seamus still hadn't decided how he felt about that. Dumbledore had made many mistakes over the years and redeemed himself just as often. As one of Harry's closest friends though he reserved the right to cling to his bitterness.

In the end Seamus' mixed feelings didn't matter, the man was dead after all. It was no reason to throw a party of course but they had definitely not been as bothered as people believed them to be. The tension filled air in the Room of Requirement was not unusual for them, in fact it was basically a yearly ritual. They always met inside those secure walls shortly before the summer began and there, hidden from eye and magic, they planned. It was difficult, dangerous and so much fun. A bit like playing a part in a school play, Seamus assumed, just more literal. For those short hours they were gods, creating a whole world, an illusion. They crafted masks, tasks and conflicts. They created entertainment. And underneath it all, they grew.

Their sixth year had brought a few surprises, things none of them had seen coming. Riddle's horcruxes were an example as was Dumbledore's rather anti-climatic death. Nothing they couldn't deal with though, their plans having been easily adapted to these small nuisances. And during their last week they had planned again, like they had done for years.

Their seventh year.

Seamus had been excited and sad all at once. Coming September he would return to Hogwarts again - for the last time. The years had gone by slowly, yet unbearable fast at the same time. Seamus had no illusions, he already knew he would miss the school, the common room, the rules everyone in his house lived by. Being a Gryffindor was all he knew, it was a world he understood. He would miss it, the easy security their tower had always provided for him.

Nevertheless Seamus had always expected to end their last year with a great final, had been excited to plan that one special year because he longed to leave a mark in Hogwarts' history that no charm nor curse could ever erase. Frankly, he suspected he wasn't only one who thought so, who wanted to make the end spectacular. _Memorable_.

In the beginning it seemed they would succeed in doing exactly that. 'Drama, drama and then lots of drama' that's what Hermione called it, Seamus remembered with a smirk. Alas, it obviously wasn't meant to be. Or at least not in the way she had meant it.

Because the school year hadn't even started yet and already their carefully laid plans crumbled beneath changes they had no way of foreseeing least of all stopping. It was frustrating because like everybody else Seamus had been well aware that things would change with Dumbledore gone. Everything and especially Hogwarts was going to be different. But he underestimated the Dark Lord's growing influence. They all had. Seamus had known that the Ministry was weak but he hadn't honestly expected that it would fall that soon. Already new laws were passed as the dark shadows thickness grew with every passing day, blocking out the light more and more.

Sometimes Seamus wondered if Ginny had already known what the future brought them because her idea was the only one that wasn't affected by the overthrown government. It wouldn't even surprise him if she did. Ginny was extremely protective of Harry and left nothing to chance when it came to his safety. It wasn't entirely healthy behavior but he knew enough about the girl's favorite curses to keep his mouth shut. Besides it was not as though the others didn't think the same. It was just one of these things that were never spoken out loud.

He sighed, turning the consequences of Voldemort's recent victories over in his head.

Dean was unable to return to Hogwarts. It was perhaps the most predictable consequence and also the one they had least prepared for. They had thought about the Golden Trio but not once had the danger for the mudbloods crossed their mind. An inexcusable oversight. Seamus scowled. It was even more frustrating because they knew that Dean was a halfblood, even suspected that his father had fallen in a fight against Death Eaters but they simply couldn't _prove_ it. With his unresolved ancestry Dean was banned from attending Hogwarts, like many other students were. This wasn't just a small disturbance in their plans, it was practically a catastrophe. And at the moment they were powerless to do anything about it.

Skeeter had written a book that would destroy Dumbledore's reputation. Now this was something far out of their control and Seamus knew very well that none of them could have anticipated that woman's move. That didn't mean that her actions wouldn't affect them though, on the contrary. Seamus didn't much care about the book itself, just like he didn't much care about Dumbledore's sullied reputation. The man was dead anyway, it wasn't like those vicious words would hurt him. The problem, like always, was Harry. Harry Potter, now with the headmaster's death the figurehead of the light side, was and forever would be associated with the name Dumbledore. True, the book didn't drag the Boy-Who-Lived through the mud but in the public's eye Harry and Dumbledore where so involved that one couldn't be taken down without tarnishing the other. Collateral damage. Much to the pleasure of a certain journalist, Seamus was sure. Of course, neither he nor his friends would allow that. Hermione had been the first to come up with a solution though Harry hadn't been happy with it. Dean had been trusted with that mission and while Seamus knew his friend was perfectly capable of succeeding and that Hermione's plan was as brilliant and efficient as always he still worried about this book because of the unknown quantity it represented. It was a sharp reminder that even if they made no mistakes like with the mudblood-mayhem there were still factors out of their reach. They were still only mortals and fallible as any human being. Except Harry maybe.

There was another thing that troubled Seamus' mind though for once it had nothing to do with Voldemort. Naturally it still had everything to do with Harry Potter. Because Seamus loved Harry.

It wasn't a secret. And he certainly wasn't the only one. Half the school fell over itself to get Harry's attention though most of them were blinded by an image carefully crafted by naïve children long years ago. Not so the Gryffindors. And definitely not the Team. They knew Harry, the real Harry. Maybe it was that knowledge that was their undoing. Because one after one they all fell for him. Loved him and were in love with him. Not completely but just as damning. It was Hermione, of course it had been Hermione, who first spoke of what everyone else already knew. They couldn't help loving him and he couldn't help but love them back.

Harry's love though was like his magic. It was addictive. It was never enough. Such was the curse of unconditional love.

With a desperate sigh Seamus closed his eyes. He didn't hate the others for loving Harry, just like he didn't hate Harry for loving them back. But there were days filled with shadows and regret. Days when he wondered if this was what love was supposed to be. He never doubted his way, never doubted Harry but sometimes he _wished_ and maybe that was his greatest fault.

Those feelings were nothing new and Seamus had long since learned coping with them. The difference was that this year he would watch over Harry, with only Neville supporting him, while Harry did what he did best: charming the people around him. Teasing, flirting, ensnaring. And Seamus would stand back, would let him, would even assist him like he always did.

To this day, Seamus didn't regret the choice he made almost six years ago. But he definitely did not enjoy himself. Although the rum, burning on his lips like flames licking on dry wood, helped. A little.

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><p><em>15th of August, 1997, Team's Townhouse, Unknown Location<em>

With irrational desperation Dean held on to the one person that hadn't left him yet. His lips met those of the fiery redhead in a vast attempt to keep her there, the memories, the connection to the Team she provided him with. She, along with five other people, was grounding him, reminding him that not all was lost. That they were worth everything.

Usually, during the summer the seven of them separated. Bonding with their families, traveling, researching and remembering who they really were, beneath all the masks they wore. Like a breath of fresh air it was cleaning but not always satisfying. Dean couldn't help but wonder whether they had become so used to the games, the lies, the deceit that life without it was no longer as fulfilling as it had once been. Some days he felt like he had been blind all his life and when he befriended Harry he had seen the sun for the first time. The sunlight was harsh, it was unforgiving but it was also beautiful and as much as it burned him Dean couldn't bear the darkness now that he knew what he was missing.

This year there had been too much to do and none of them could spare the time to live and forget. It had been unusual but their meetings brought Dean a security he had never felt outside of Hogwarts before. It made him wonder whether it was the castle or his friends that were responsible for the save feeling he associated with the school. It hadn't lasted of course. Their circle was soon broken because they all had things to do and places to be. For the first time their beloved game required for them to separate. It was ironic considering this very game was what had brought them together in the first place. The thought tasted like acid on Dean's tongue.

Harry had been the first to go. He vanished one day, without explanation or warning. His presence lingered though and Dean knew it was all part of the plan even though it send the world into chaos once his disappearance became common knowledge. The Death Eaters' frustration was actually quite amusing as were the wanted poster of one of his closest friends where just months ago pictures of the Lestranges had littered the walls. It was strange but also an interesting experience to be on the other side of the ministry, Dean supposed. To be hunted, to be the minority, to be openly against the Ministry. The tables had changed and now _they_ were the revolution.

Next was Hermione. Similar to Harry she slipped into the shadows, unseen and never leaving any evidence or indication as to where she might have gone. Not even her family was left by the time she disappeared. Hermione was nothing if not thorough. She was also too much like Harry for the rest of the Team's comfort. But again, Dean had known that she followed the path they themselves had created. Her name too was well-known by the enemy and so nobody was surprised to find her name on the List and in the papers. Dean didn't worry. Hermione had always been a very resourceful witch. Every goal she set for herself she accomplished and as her continued survival was near the top of her priority list Dean pitied anyone who would encounter the young woman on her quest. If there was one person who disconfirmed the whole pure blood superiority than it was her. The poor Death Eaters' just didn't know it yet.

Ron's departure was perhaps the least spectacular. Mainly because to the outer world, meaning everybody expect for his family and the Team, he never left. Another deception, another mask. This time in the physical form of a ghoul. It worried Dean, more than he would like to admit, how far they were going, how much of their identity they gave up. Round after round the stakes got higher and there was still no end in sight. The game was tiring at times and often merciless. But they couldn't stop. They just couldn't stop.

Neville didn't leave in the same sense as the rest of the Team did. He was a pureblood from an old family and out of all of them his standing in this new, darker society was the highest. But although the Longbottoms weren't officially persecuted they still faced scrutiny from the current government. It was safest for all involved that they cut their contact with each other as short as possible. It was to early in the game to risk something like Azkaban or death sentences. Not that such inconveniences had ever stopped them before, Dean thought with a feral grin on his lips.

Seamus had stayed the longest. Dean liked to think that his dear friend felt the same nostalgia, breathed the same sense of foreboding that seemed to fill the air and dreamed of the same shadows whom's whispers plagued his sleep at night. But while he was convinced that the other male was just as troubled as he himself was he suspected that the reasons for their anxiety were not quite the same. Dean had never asked of course, there was an unspoken agreement between them not to pry, but he was neither blind nor stupid. The amount of evenings Seamus spent drinking himself into oblivion was truly alarming. The whole being Irish excuse only held on for so long. Finally Seamus had left their secret hide-out too but unlike the others he had calmly packed his bags and actually _said_ _goodbye_. Deep inside Dean understood that it were exactly those parting words his other friends had been afraid of, that they hadn't wanted to say goodbye in fear of it being the final words they would exchange. He still hadn't decided which way he preferred, for the idea to say those condemning words was just as terrifying as the thought to miss said chance. It might be for the best that he didn't have to make those agonizing choice for the others had all done it for him. And for that Dean couldn't help but love them a little more.

Dean closed his eyes in silent defeat even as a low, keening sound left his throat unwillingly. He wasn't ready to let her go yet - Ginny, the precious girl in his arms, the _only one left _- he would never be ready. That she had one of the riskier missions didn't assure him in the slightest. Oh, he never doubted Ginny's abilities for her wraith was to be feared by anyone but Harry but she was still smaller, younger, _girlier_ than the others. She always stood out in their Team. A bit similar to Harry really. But where he was the leader, the King, she was innocence and insanity, a cold, tantalizing beauty, dear to all of them in ways that could not be conveyed by mere words. She wasn't the King though. _She wasn't Harry_. Maybe that was the only reason Dean was able to let her go.

"I need to leave." Her words were soft and she made no move to remove herself from his arms. But Dean knew her well. She wasn't hesitating, wasn't silently begging to stay. Ginny would never beg. No, she was simply waiting for him to let her. Sometimes he wondered if she wasn't reading his very soul but that was a silly thought. The girl while intuitive was neither as deep nor as empathic as she appeared to be on first glance. He of all people knew that.

"Promise you won't die." The words left his lips without his permission and Dean closed his eyes in defeat as her body tensed. She didn't need to answer, he already knew what she was going to say but she did so anyway. Maybe she needed the reminder just as much as he did.

"I have long since sworn not to give a promise I can't keep." She laughed a little, her eyes lighting up like the stars on the sky. "I shall however promise you to keep him alive, by any means necessary."

Those words spoken by a barely sixteen year old girl with a shattered spirit shouldn't comfort him as much as they did.

"Him?" he asked more out of habit than confusion.

Her silver giggle tickled his senses like a fresh breeze in the spring. She slapped him lightly against the chest and spoke with child-like conviction. "Silly you, the King of course! Whom else would I serve but him?"

She looked free in that moment. Truly content even and Dean realized with a start how few the times were where he had seen true joy on her young face. His eyes burned but he swallowed the bitter words down, kissed her softly one more time and slowly broke the embrace they had stayed in for the last hours.

This was not the time for doubt, bitterness and pointless anger. This was the time for a final goodbye and the mourning of the last innocence they had left within their hearts. And as he watched the door slowly closing behind her soundless steps he felt an age-old exhaustion deep inside his very being as the reality of his situation finally sank in.

He was alone.

* * *

><p>27th of August, 1997, The Daily Prophet's Headquarters, Rita Skeeter's Office, London<p>

_Ms Skeeter,_

_With great interest have I read your recently published _

_book regarding the late Dumbledore. I must confess a _

_perhaps naïve eagerness to see the truth being known _

_at last. Thus I have found myself disappointed, not at _

_the deeds you described but rather those you concealed_

_from the people whom have a right to know. Being as _

_aware of your extraordinary research skills I am hesitate_

_to believe that a crime as serious as the one I speak of_

_as escaped your attention. _

_Nevertheless, should you truly not know of the travesty _

_that has occurred right under your watchful eyes I would_

_be willing to provide you with another ugly skeleton _

_hidden in an old man's closet. I ask for nothing but a _

_meeting at a secure place and - of course - your complete_

_discretion. As an experienced journalist such as yourself_

_I am sure you expect nothing less._

_ With deepest respect,_

_ a concerned Reader_

* * *

><p><em>31st of August, 1997, House of Rosenwelt, England<em>

Hermione stifled another tired yawn and closed the heavy tome on her table. The room fell into a lonely silence only broken by the creaking of the old chair as she leaned back. Her back hurt in odd places and her muscles felt stiff. Reading really seemed to be the only thing she was doing these days. Hermione blinked, surprised at the bitterness clinging to those thoughts. There had been a time where she enjoyed the comfortable presence of hundreds of books. She remembered those thoughts clearly and her heart clenched.

She didn't mind the house she was currently residing in nor would she deny the pleasure all those age-old pages filled with wisdom brought her any other day. But tonight her mind was weary and her thoughts full of envy and desire. Tomorrow was the first of September and for the first time in what felt like forever she would not return to the castle she had come to love like her own home.

The rational part of her knew that it would be suicide to go and moreover that Hogwarts wouldn't, couldn't be the same under the control of Death Eaters. Her beloved school would not be how she remembered it and maybe it was mercy that she was spared to witness the great fortress succumb to darkness. But this sure wasn't how mercy felt like. Was supposed to feel like. Instead Hermione found herself anxious and unable to concentrate even on the most fascinating tales. For tomorrow three of her dearest friends would walk straight into the lion's den, figuratively and literally. And there was nothing she could do to protect them.

Shaky fingers traced the ever-present mirror on her lap. In moments like these clutching the small piece of glass was the only thing that kept her sane. It wouldn't be enough to ensure a peaceful sleep tonight though. Hermione stood from her chair in the empty library with a resigned expression on her face but her feet soon gained the determination she was so well-known for. Her notes were still incomplete but the night was young.

She would do as they had planned. And she would succeed. They all would. Defeat had never been an option.

* * *

><p><em>1st of September, 1997, Earth<em>

The morning of the first of September was bright and cool, a careful warning of the approaching winter. There was nothing remarkable about this dawning day and it would fade from people's memory before too long. For some it was the beginning of another month, for some it was the beginning of a new school year, for some it was the beginning of a game. For most however it was nothing but another day, twenty-four hours, that passed just as all the days to come and all the days already gone. Lost between shadows and dust.

* * *

><p>That last part was just me trying to finally end this chapter, so ... Yeah. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it and please leave me a review!<p>

Love, Schlange

**Next Chapter:** Starting the Game


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